The Days After
by Casey Toh
Summary: Sort of like a sequel to Farewells...Terry fully accepts being the Batman...A prequel to Doubts and Failures


Note: This story is dedicated to **Gina Ivy** for her always enthusiastic and encouraging reviews, and my friend **Thea**, who gave me a lot of encouragement in my life. Hey you two, it's not so good, so don't blame me for it.

Disclaimer: This is a story meant only for the enjoyment of readers and it does not intend to infringe on the copyright of DC. 

**The Days After** by Casey Toh

All was quiet outside the discotheque. Dana Tan leaned against the gray, weather beaten wall of the building, her arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping a steady rhythm on the ground. Her bright eyes scanned the area around her impatiently, hoping to catch the smallest sign of her boyfriend.

_Terry McGinnis._ Just the thought of him sent delicious shivers through her body. He was a tall, handsome guy; body enveloped with lean muscles that rippled with power each time he held her in the past.

Dana gave a sigh, thoughts returning to the present. She glanced at her watch. Its digital numerals read 10:25pm. Terry was late, again, as he had been for the past few months since that Wayne guy died, and left all he had to her boyfriend.

A cold wind blew across her, causing goose bumps to break out all over her bare arms. She shook her head in defeat, long black hair rippling in the lamplight, and turned to enter the building.

"Dana." She froze, and turned happily, ready to run into the arms of the owner of the voice, when she froze again, taking a closer look at the person.

Terry stood just outside the pool of light she was bathed in, refusing to take any step into the light. His short black hair was brushed backward by the wind. His stance was easy and relaxed. He was the Terry she knew.

_So why does he feel as if he was a stranger?_ Dana wondered. _And a dangerous one?_ "Terry." She attempted to keep her voice light. "Let's go in." She reached for his arm.

Terry barely moved, but his intention was well telegraphed to Dana. "I have no time for fun or enjoyment, Dana. I have things I need to do." He turned partly, ready to leave. "I just came to tell you that." He started walking away.

Dana, for her part, reacted instinctively to the unspoken meaning in his words, and blocked his path. "What are you saying?" she demanded.

He gazed steadily at her. "I do not have any time for relationships, Dana. I need to go." He started to leave again.

Dana grabbed his arm and received a glare which conveyed such strong warning, she released her hold involuntarily, watching with a numb mind as her lover walked out of her life.

***

The door to the McGinnis apartment opened with a soft click, and Terry entered. He discarded the coldness he had shown Dana, and popped his had into the kitchen to greet his mother. "Hey Mum."

Mary McGinnis looked up from the cups of cocoa she was making, and offered her son a smile. "Hey Terry. Did you have a good time with Dana?"

"I couldn't go with her, Mum," he answered, reaching for the mug and sipping the warm drink. "I have my homework to do, and then I'm going to Wayne Manor."

Mary sighed. "Again? Terry, _this_ is your home. Not the manor." Terry had changed so much from the easy-going teen, who always got into trouble at school into such a serious person she wished he would revert back to who he was. _And it all started with Wayne_, she thought.

Terry finished the drink. "I have things I need to do, Mum. I'll be back on the weekends." He grabbed his bag and went off, mumbling last words, "Wayne Manor is my home, Mum."

***

Dana trudged into the discotheque, seeking the company of her good friends—Tracey Xanders, Sandra Higgins, Mark Hogan and Bart Tolken. They noticed instantly that she was alone, and crying.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Sandra yelled over the loud music, trying to be as gentle as possible in her shout, afraid that a wrong tone or question may induce more tears.

"He left me," Dana mumbled. Her friends were all straining to hear her when she screamed, "Terry left me!!"

Everyone jerked back; some surprised, some relieved. Terry had been the one most committed to love among them. But ever since he received the late Wayne's will, he had distanced himself from everyone with his cold, sharp attitude.

Bart indicated that they should go outside to talk, and they did; the cool night air bringing more tears to Dana's eyes. "You think Terry became too stuck up 'cause he's got the bucks now?"

Tracey, who was a good friend of Terry, shook her head in correction. "No, Bart. I don't think it's that. I know it's something else, something to do with Wayne dying."

"He's changed so much nobody, even his mother, knows him anymore," Dana sobbed.

She didn't know how close to the truth she was.

***

A dog barked in the manor grounds. The door to the house opened and someone let it in. "Hey Ace," Terry McGinnis's quiet voice called to the Doberman.

It gave a low whine and followed its new master down to the cave, watching his every move with a sharp eye. 

Terry crossed the cave to the glass case that held the original Batsuit, gazing at it. The two eyeholes in the mask were just hollows, containing none of the power he had seen, as Batman's eyes. Without a wearer, without a guiding force and a soul, it was just a mask. 

He took the suit out, hesitant as to whether to wear it. It wasn't the size he was worried about—if he could wear the new Batsuit Bruce wore, he was sure the old would fit. 

What he had to decide on was whether he could, or more importantly, whether he _should_ change, to be truly Batman—the Batman that criminals once feared; the Batman who was Bruce Wayne. He had only worn the suit once, and that was right after Wayne's death, to honor him. 

If he wore the original suit, he would be changed. He would not be Terry McGinnis in a Batsuit; he would _be_ the Batman. 

Terry sighed, and replaced the suit, opting to put his decision off a little longer. He booted up the Batcomputer, going through the leads he had received from Commissioner Barbara Gordon about a drug shipment by Jenkins Thorne, son of the notorious Rupert Thorne in Bruce's time.

The present Thorne had been stopped by the Batman (Bruce) a few times, and was afraid of the true Dark Knight. But ever since Terry became Batman, the criminal had started his activities again, not fearing the 'new' Batman.

Terry, having found that the boat was entering Gotham via Dixon Docks at 3am, went to shower. The previous dilemma returned to bug him, and in frustration, he hurled a towel at the mirror. 

That action caused his eyes to be drawn to his reflection, and his hands gripped the edges of the mirror as he contemplated himself. As he stared, his image slowly faded away, to be replaced by another face—half of Bruce Wayne, and the other half of the Batman.

He blinked, and it was gone. Terry smiled, and proceeded to change.

***

Two bright circles of light blinked in the darkness of the night. From the docks, another two answered their call. A dim spotlight was switched on as a small boat docked. 

"You got the stuff, Tensson?" a voice demanded.__

"Yes, Mr. Thorne," the man called Tensson answered, and held out his hand. "But first, the money."

"As usual." Thorne held out a briefcase to the waiting man.

Tensson reached out, ready to take the handle when there came a whirring noise, followed by a sharp pain in his wrist. It was broken. With a curse, he crouched down to examine the object that had struck him. The outline was evident even in the dim light. "It's the Bat!"

"Ah, don't worry about him." Thorne waved the problem away. "The old Bat's gone, and the new one ain't much good. My men can take care of him."

"On the contrary, Thorne," a deep voice rumbled, as the shadow of a bat grow from the darkness, "your men are all down."

_That voice!_ Thorne's mind screamed at him. _The Batman's voice!_ He whipped out a gun, as did Tensson. But before any shots could be fired, the Batman had leaped from the roof and landed squarely on Tensson, knocking him down and out. With another well-placed kick, Thorne's gun was gone.

"It was a mistake not worrying about me, Thorne." Batman slammed him into the wall. "Because I worry people like you."

Jenkins Thorne felt the old fear grow in him. The old Batman was back, with all his cold fury, inner strength, and powerful and mystical aura about him. He crumpled under the glare of the vigilante's demonic eyes.

Jenkins Thorne did not put up a fight when handcuffs snapped into place around his wrists, and Gotham's Finest herded him away.

***

The moon shone big and bright. Standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, was a man—blue-gray suit, billowing cloak, and pointed ears. But if anyone had looked more closely, there stood not a man in a suit, but a bat—the heart of a hero.

Batman will never again be an empty shell. The spirit of the Dark Knight had been received.

Batman…lives on.

THE END 


End file.
